


What Used To Be

by Oh_Dearie_Dear



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, thatsit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 03:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20520926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_Dearie_Dear/pseuds/Oh_Dearie_Dear
Summary: He's not Rumplestiltskin. Not anymore, anyway.





	What Used To Be

**Author's Note:**

> This is something super random I wrote on my phone since my laptop is dead. Not like battery-dead, but dead-dead. Unfortunately. Anyway, please read end notes.

His head pounds as the human in him and the Dark One bicker like children. Except, there's no words, just voices. Aimless voices that taunt him without really taunting. But he knows what they're saying - he always does, even without words. They yell and they scream, and sometimes they cry. Sometimes they whimper and whine, or maybe that's just him. He can't really tell anymore.

He’s curled in a corner, bloody hands pressed into his ears. He’s rocking back and forth, and his leg is tapping the ground in frantic rhythm. His words aren’t words, but shakey noises. Anything -  _ anything _ \- to drown out the sounds. 

It’s cold where he is, and the human in him shivers internally. Not externally, because Dark Ones don’t shiver. Dark Ones don’t get cold. Or hot.  _ Nothing _ . 

But humans  _ do _ get cold, he has to remind himself that. But he’s not human. But he  _ is _ . At least he used to be. Now, he’s nothing. He  _ feels _ nothing, he  _ eats _ nothing, he  _ breathes _ nothing. It’s all  _ nothing _ .  _ He’s _ nothing. 

No, he’s weak. But he’s not. Not anymore. Now, he’s  _ powerful _ . Magic courses through his veins and boils his blood. It  _ hurts _ . It  _ stings _ . No, it doesn’t. It’s good. It means power. 

Power is what he wants. But he wants his  _ son _ . But he needs power to  _ get _ his son. He needs power. He  _ wants _ power. He craves it. It’s his, it’s  _ all _ his.

What used to be Rumplestiltskin, is now a memory. A distant memory, in the back of his mind, used to fuel the power within him. 

It’s dark and musty, the walls moldy and crumbly. This place could collapse at any moment. He could  _ die _ . No, he  _ can’t _ . Dark Ones don’t die. 

Dark Ones don’t do anything. And yet, they do  _ everything _ . 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I seem to have lost my writing flow all of the sudden (yay), and am in desperate need to make my hands write again. So, if any of you peeps could offer me one shot ideas (you can be as vague or as specific as you like), that would be great. I know exactly where Morality is going, but my fingers will not type out what I want to write. It’s ridiculous. So, no, I haven’t abandoned Morality, just trying to get my flow back so I don’t ruin it. Thanks to everyone who has stood by and offered comments and encouragement for any of my works, you have no idea how much I appreciate it!


End file.
